Behind the Scars
by Skyblaze
Summary: A brief epilogue to the episode 'Kittnap'. An examination of Michael and Kitt's relationship and how it is precieved by others.


**Behind the Scars**

_By a freeway I confess  
I was lost in the pages  
Of a book full of death  
Reading how we'll die alone  
And if we're good we'll lay to rest  
Anywhere we want to go._

"I'm sorry, RC, what did you say?"  
Kitt's interruption of RC3's steady flow of words was somewhat unexpected, he had remained politely silent through the rest of RC's slightly exaggerated tale of what had happened while Kitt had been shut up inside a lead-lined box.

"Michael was gonna hand himself over to that Julian dude in exchange for you, Kitt," RC repeated casually, "But I said no way, I mean, he was seriously bad news, man."

"Yes," Kitt said softly, "Julian would have killed Michael in an instant."

Bonnie glared out the windscreen at the oblivious RC3 as he resumed chattering. Could he possibly know what those casually-spoken words would mean to Kitt? Bonnie sincerely doubted it, since even she wasn't sure...but there was something in Kitt's voice, something even she couldn't pin down.  
But what she did recognise was the look on Michael's face when he had brought Kitt back to the Foundation and pointed out every single bullet hole to her. The guilt as he had said quietly;  
_"They're all because of me..."_

Had RC inadvertently stumbled across something significant when he had spoken of chivalry to Michael? They had all known that Michael hadn't been offering himself in exchange for Karen - he'd been offering himself in exchange for Kitt.

Bonnie finished her final adjustment and asked Kitt to test it. An instant later and Kitt reported that it was functioning flawlessly, his voice calm, cool, not a trace of that previous emotion. Bonnie felt like thumping something in frustration. She had once been able to read Kitt's every thought and emotion, but know he was as elusive as a shadow, dodging her most subtle inquiries smoothly, and the direct approach had never been overly successful with Kitt.

She threw her tools into their box with more force that necessary.  
Dammit. What was going _on_ here?

---

It was spring and the weather remained somewhat variable. The previous day had been warm but over cast, which had suited Kitt's somewhat pensive mood perfectly.  
But today had dawned bright and sunny, and Kitt had every expectation of Michael calling him outside so they could go for a quiet drive.  
It had become something of a tradition of theirs after a long or difficult case, just to drive, t spend time together with no pressure, and no expectations. Even Devon had begun to acknowledge the necessity of it, politely refraining from assigning their next case until late morning.

As expected, a call came from the comlink, Michael's cheerful voice calling him out onto the front driveway. Kitt keyed the engine and drove smoothly out of his garage and round onto the paved driveway, where Michael was, unsurprisingly, waiting for him.

What was something of a surprise was that instead of his overnight bag, Michael was carrying a bucket of soapy water and a sponge.

"Feel up to a wash, partner?" Michael asked with a smile.

"Of course, Michael." Kitt replied. Not that he would ever object, he enjoyed the attention.  
Michael set down the bucket and reached into Kitt's cabin, dialling up some soft rock music. Well, for a hand wash, Kitt supposed he could put up with some airwave-shattering.

Kitt watched as his driver rolled up his sleeves, wet the sponge then reached up and soaped up his roof, his long arms reaching to cover the entire expanse of black metal and glass in foam.

The radio sang with a high-pitched male voice as Michael hummed along,

_To live between a rock  
And a hard place,  
In between time,  
Cruising in prime time..._

As much as Kitt enjoyed it when Michael did this for him, he was also somewhat confused.  
It was usually one of the junior technicians who kept his paintjob looking pristine, or an autowash since he didn't have to worry about micro scratches dulling his paint.

Though Michael had done this for him on a few occasions, it was usually after he had been through some kind of trauma; like Acid John's chemical pit, or his encounter with Goliath.  
In fact, the last time was after his rebuild, after the ramrod and just after his molecular bonded shell had been re-applied. They had gone out driving in the desert, performing utterly insane stunts while Michael laughed, whooped and cheered. Then they had gone home and Michael had washed and waxed him as the day turned into twilight.

But this time there had been no traumatic incident. Though he had been separated from Michael and put in a lead-lined box, it had been more of an annoyance that anything else.  
So that still left the question of why.

_To live between the wars,  
In our time,  
Living in real time,  
Holding the good time,  
Holding on to yesterdays..._

The synthesiser-driven track continued to warble on through his speakers as Michael took a hose and rinsed away the suds and then paused to retrieve the wax.  
It was only when Kitt recognised the intent expression on his driver's face that Kitt began to understand. Michael was taking his time with this, making sure every inch of the car was taken care of, thoroughly washed, waxed and checked over with care and precision.

When he had returned from his captivity, Bonnie had been able to give him a full diagnostic and check-up, just to make sure everything was how it should be and reassure herself that Kitt was all right.

Michael hadn't had such a luxury. Not until now.

Kitt remembered RC3's words from yesterday with all the vivid clarity of his flawless memory. Michael had been about to offer himself up as a sacrifice in exchange...but had it been for Karen's safety...or for Kitt's own? That question had jolted something deep inside Kitt's circuitry. He knew he ought to ask Michael, to get an answer, but had not yet worked up the temerity to do so, too afraid of what the answer would mean, for both of them.

_Bright images flashing by,  
Like windshields towards a fly,  
Frozen in the fatal climb,  
But the wheels of time,  
Just pass you by..._

The sun shone on his shining black prow and Michael worked diligently at polishing every inch, his face calm but determined.  
Yesterday had not been a traumatic incident for him. But perhaps it had been for his driver.

End.

_Authors Note:__ Lyrics copyright Audioslave (Sony Music) and Rush (Atlantic Records)_


End file.
